


On Monsters

by Anonymous



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Gen, Post Revelations 6:8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:41:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25666876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: What's in a number?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48
Collections: Anonymous





	On Monsters

“Amanda told me that you told her you were five thousand years old.”

“I _am_ five thousand years old, Macleod.”

“A thousand years ago?”

“What?”

“She told me that when she was Rebecca’s student, she asked you your age – and you said five thousand.”

“Really?” Bemusement; surprise.

“Methos.”

“Hmm. Well, I told you I was five thousand. I also told you I didn’t remember life before taking my first head. So maybe it wasn’t the first.”

“How can you be so – so – ” Scottish sputtering.

“What?”

“So – nonchalant! Uncaring!”

“It’s a _number_ , Macleod. You want to know how old I am? Fine. I’m _old._ _Ancient._ Mac, you get to a certain value, and it just becomes _a lot_.”

“And was ten thousand just a lot?”

Silence. Then –

“Yes, Macleod, it’s a number – no, don’t interrupt; think with your brain instead of your mouth for once. So you’re just over four hundred years old. Another nice, round, number, don’t you think? So how many wars have you fought in – you can’t be killed, so you probably killed more than your fair share of mortals in each. How many challenges have you taken? You dropped out of the Game for a while, there, but you’re not on the short list for Champion for nothing. Do you think it’s fair to say you averaged two kills a year? Really? I’d say more like ten. So you’ve killed four thousand people – yet you blink at ten thousand?”

“You went hunting for _innocents_ – ”

“Really? What amazing knowledge you have, of ten thousand lives lived and lost. I suppose you met with Cassandra’s tribe, too, and stayed with them? Did you participate in their spring ritual, when they took the young captives from the last raid against the village a few leagues over, cut off the choicest bits of their flesh and ate it raw? Blood dripping down your lips – a change from it dripping over your hands, Highlander.”

“You’re lying – Cassandra wouldn’t.”

“Oh, maybe not her particular tribe, but _we_ were feared over two continents. The druids actively sought out sacrifices in our name – but they had that particular custom long before we arrived. So what do you think, Macleod? I ought to tally those deaths up, too, after all. A mere two kills per year? Please, you insult me. Ten thousand is a pittance – but it makes such a nice number.”

“Stalin would say the same!”

“And how do you know I wasn’t in Russia at the time of Stalin’s purges, whispering in his ear? I’ve razed croplands before – perhaps I was the mastermind behind the Ukraine famine? Whose side did I choose when Ferdinand was assassinated? I’ve always been a scholar – perhaps I helped weaponize chlorine gas? Or run the death camps two decades later – oh, now, Himmler, there was a brilliant butcher. What was ten thousand to him? Auschwitz burned more than that in a single day. I know where _you_ were during that war – have you any idea where _I_ was?”

No; denial, but the belief sinks into his bones. How can he believe otherwise? Yet he must ask – “Where were you?”

“In Bergen-Belsen, dying with all the others. I gave up murder a thousand years before you were born.” A door opens. “Have a nice life, Macleod; come find me in a few centuries when you’ve learnt some _perspective_.” It slams shut behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> Written sometime prior to 2012, according to the date stamp in my files. If I had to estimate, I'd guess... 2007?


End file.
